


here's to the nights we felt alive

by orphan_account



Category: Heroes - Fandom, Misfits
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crossover, Crossover Pairing, F/M, Immortality, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-13
Updated: 2011-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire sees Nathan shoot himself in the head on TV, and is drawn to him as another immortal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	here's to the nights we felt alive

**Author's Note:**

> For a comment fic prompt of Heroes/Misfits crossover, Claire/Nathan, Let's get fucked up and die. Title from the Eve 6 song "Here's to the Night."

Claire thought _American_ reality TV was fucked up, but the English? They’re really twisted. She was in a pub when it came on, so she crowded around the TV with the rest of the crowd. She watched him, this Nathan (is it ironic that he shares a name with her bio dad?), take a gun and put it to his head. When he pulled the trigger, his head exploded gorgeously, chunks of flesh and hair and bone clinging to the camera. The pub filled with groans and one girl even ran to the bathroom to vomit. Not Claire. She just waited. And sure enough, eventually, his face reformed and he stood up on shaky legs and took a bow.

It didn’t take a lot for her to find him. He had an entourage, but they let her through because she was hot, and he treated her like any other groupie. Nathan used some of the worst pick up lines she ever heard and his words were slurred, from drink or drugs or both.

Claire had a knife in her purse. When she pulled it out, all the half-dressed girls started shrieking. Nathan just stared at her, his eyes blank, a smirk on his lips. When you’re immortal, it’s hard to be afraid.

The sting was sharp and familiar as she slit her own throat and she could feel the blood run hot over her neck, down her shirt, and over her breasts. It was only a few seconds before Claire started to heal. She could feel her skin start to knit back together, the beautiful black edge of pain receding from her brain.

“I’m Claire,” she said.

“Leave us,” Nathan said, like a king commanding his little court, and all the sluts scattered. He stood up and walked toward her, reached out a finger to touch her skin, tacky with drying blood. “You’re like me,” he whispered.

“I’m like you,” Claire echoed. She pulled him to her and when she kissed him he tasted like beer and life. Her hands reached to unbutton his fly. She pulled out his cock, hardening but smaller than she had expected, and began to work her fist up and down it. When she dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth, Nathan groaned.

Claire bit him, hard. He screamed in pain and pleasure, pulling her hair from her scalp. She used teeth and mouth and tongue, harder and harder, until he came, salty and coppery, a mix of sperm and blood. He fell back onto the velvety couch he had been sitting on when she came in.

“What’s next?” Nathan asked, grinning.

Claire looked around, at the bottles of liquor and ale and pills. “Let’s get fucked up and die,” she said. “And by the time we come back to life, you’d better be ready to fuck me until I forget that I’m immortal.”


End file.
